


Where Only Your Thoughts Have Been

by queuedepoisson



Series: The Vintage Whore Collection [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1930s, Asthma, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, Prostitution, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 17:10:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1612880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queuedepoisson/pseuds/queuedepoisson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There had been an unspoken agreement that this was just a chance encounter, one that couldn’t be repeated.  But Steve wasn’t ready to let go, not after the way the night had changed him and what he thought he wanted."</p>
<p>A pre-war AU based on one shift in the timeline: Steve's parents didn't die, but Bucky's did.  They never meet in the orphanage and their lives are on very different paths when they first meet.  But still, Steve is so damn good.</p>
<p>First in a series: set March 1938 (that makes Steve 20, Bucky just turned 16)</p>
<p>There is a bit of plot to tie the porn together across the episodes but fairly minimal feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Only Your Thoughts Have Been

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alchemistique](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemistique/gifts).



> This was a thank you present to Emily for helping me with a much longer, much more dramatic fic that will take much longer to post.
> 
> And holy crap, this wouldn't be 1/100 as good without Mat. Like the entire thing was rewritten for the better.
> 
> Title is from Heart's A Mess - Gotye

Right now, the snow was just flurries, a light dusting, but the janitor at school swore his back told him it would practically be a blizzard.  Strange as it sounded, he was normally right, so Steve pushed his hands deeper into the pockets of his wool coat and picked up the pace to make it back to his apartment before it really started coming down.  The streets were mostly bare, people already home for supper, or hurrying to get there, so it stuck out to him when he saw someone huddled out on the front steps of one of the brownstones.  He slowed down to talk.  No one ever accused Steve of not being friendly, even if it was sometimes past the point of stupidity.

"You better head inside for a heavier coat if you plan on sitting out here much longer!" he called out.  Steve could only view so much of the guy he addressed, curled as tightly as he was in a thin jacket.  His head was tilted down so all Steve saw was his messy dark hair, like Clark Gable after a fight in a movie, near-black curls across his forehead.  The kid looked up when Steve spoke, though, and his eyes were strikingly blue in the strange light before a snowstorm.  A cigarette hung from mouth.  He removed it, cupping it with his hand to protect it from the wind, before speaking.

"This is my heavy coat," he deadpanned.  Steve knit his eyebrows and tilted his head in question, and the kid continued:  "I don’t live here, just stopping for a minute. Been a bit of a long walk home."

"Your place isn’t close to here?"

His eyes fell down to the ground with a laugh.  "No, not exactly."

"Well, mine is.  Stay there while you wait for this to blow over," he offered, glancing up at the approaching clouds.

"I’m not a big fan of taking favors."

Steve always wondered why people tried to turn down kindness.  Probably the reason the world ended up with so many bullies; they get a reaction, nice guys don’t.

"Don’t think of it as a favor, think of it as an investment.  You never know when saving a fella’s life will come back to you."  It was a private joke since he was normally the one wishing someone would have stepped in to save him, back in high school when he was getting pounded.  Fortunately, art school didn’t have as many bullies, at least not ones who fought with fists.

The youth finally stood up.  Even though he must have been younger than Steve, he still stood a head taller.  "Not sure what good it’ll do, saving me." He flicked the last of the cigarette away and offered his hand, sizing Steve up with a deliberate look.  "But the name’s Bucky, for what it’s worth."

Steve responded in kind with his hand and name.  It didn’t take long for the sky to darken at this time of year, so no time was wasted getting on their way.  Some baseball talk, the Dodgers trading Eddie Morgan, helped the walk go by quickly, but by the time they reached Steve’s building, the snow was like a heavy blanket.  His apartment was a fourth story walk up, so Steve led the way up the stairs, stopping on the third floor landing to catch his breath.

Bucky cocked an eyebrow at that.  Steve wasn’t in bad shape, per se, but he’d always struggled with weak lungs and the freezing air was taking its toll.  He let Bucky pass him,  "Second door on the left, I’ll be there in a jiff."  It only took a few moments to right himself before he scaled the last flight and unlocked the door.

"Not much to look at," Steve admitted.  "But no snow and there’s a radiator, so it’s better than walking out there for now."  The single room contained a threadbare sofa with a table next to it holding a lamp and on the other side of the room, a bed.  No chairs, just one stool in front of a few easels of various sizes next to the largest window (which wasn’t saying much, considering the view was just more brick).  The main decorations were the sketches all over the walls, put up with pins or cellophane tape.  Bucky slowly walked around looking at them, hands fisted in his pockets, trying to stay warm.

"Geez that started fast."  Steve had a habit of nervous talking (or nervous silence. It varied.) "You might have been stuck in that."

"Yeah, that would have made for a cold night," agreed Bucky. "Maybe you were right about saving my life."

Steve hung his coat up on a hook and put on a kettle for some instant coffee.  He didn’t have much else to offer, a few small unripe bananas sat in a bowl; but otherwise the pantry was bare.  (Any extra money his folks were able to give him went to art supplies.)  He brought Bucky's mug to the sofa where he was already sitting.  Steve folded his legs under himself as he sat on the floor.  There was a small radio next to the lamp, and they sat together in silence, listening until the station wished them good night and signed off.  The broadcaster had mentioned the snow was expected to continue until the early hours.  Bucky already had drifted to sleep a few times, so Steve grabbed an extra wool blanket from the cupboard to throw over him and went to change into a cotton shirt and pyjama bottoms before curling up in his own bed.

He couldn't have been asleep very long when he felt cold hands moving around his waist.  The sensation invaded his dreams and there was a pull from his groin in response.  In the dream, it was getting pretty hot and heavy, but he couldn’t see the face of who it was touching him.  He wondered if it was one of the girls who sat across the room in art class, or perhaps it was the male model that came in?  The thought disturbed him enough to awaken.

Back in the real world, one of those cold hands drifted between his legs towards his half-hard cock.  He realized with a start that it was Bucky, pressing into him, and he jumped to the edge of the bed.

Bucky put both his hands up as if caught.  "Sorry.  Guess I got a wire crossed."

"I mean, what was that?"  Steve sputtered.  "If you're cold, I can get the space heater out, I mean, the radiator isn't the best in here."

Bucky chuckled at this discomfort and shook his head, curls falling loose on his forehead again.  "That’s not... the thing you said about being an investment. I mean, that's the usual payment."  

Steve, slowly comprehending, stared with his mouth working silently.  "You do stuff like that for..."

"For money, for a meal, for some place to stay."  Bucky shrugged like it was nothing unusual.

"You weren't headed home, were you?"  Steve still felt sorry for him despite the uncomfortable position he woke up in.  The idea that Bucky had no other way to get by tugged at Steve’s heartstrings.  He was barely more than a kid.

"It ain't so bad. I should be able to pass for old enough to enlist soon, and then Uncle Sam will be responsible for my room and board."  Bucky brushed his hair back with his fingers and straightened. When he clenched his jaw and put on a steely expression, he was an almost-convincing baby-faced eighteen.

"But still, that must be - "

"It’s fine," Bucky interrupted him. "Really."

Steve continued anyway, staring at his hands.  "But it's with other men, they take you home to..."

"Not home most of the time.  Just somewhere not noticeable, hidden enough to use your hands."

"Use your hands?"  At this point, Steve was playing dumb in a way to hear more.  It was the sordid kind of thing he would deny being intrigued by, if asked.

Bucky didn’t ask.

Steve put his feet back on the bed, knees bent and arms wrapped loosely around them.  

"Like you do on yourself?"  The way he looked up at Steve through his eyelashes as he asked was almost predatory.  Bucky clearly didn’t confuse Steve’s guilelessness for complete inexperience and his suggestive tone immediately led Steve’s thoughts astray.

As the mental image crossed his mind, Steve immediately regretted changing into pyjamas.  They were an old pair that were tighter than he’d realized.  He regretted throwing the blanket off when he woke up with a start.  He couldn't quite regret helping this poor guy who would have frozen outside, but he needed to figure out quickly how he could hide a growing problem without just bringing more attention to it.

Bucky continued.  "So yeah, that earns a few bucks. More if you use your mouth."  Steve's face was red hot.  He wasn't a complete idiot, he had done model drawing, knew the biological basics, he had even snuck into the aisle of a movie theatre playing a ‘blue’ movie when he was a kid before getting kicked out, but there hadn’t been anything perverse like that.  He guessed once it was two men together, what was off limits?

Steve swallowed, hard.  "That's better?"

  
  
  


Bucky couldn't get enough of this wholesome kid's wide eyed stare, or his visible blush in the dark room with only the light from the street.  Here was some college boy art student, probably learning about Picasso and Dali, and yet he was oblivious as to why the guy he picked up and took home tried to put his hand in his pants.  He'd worry about Steve’s heart if he heard what Bucky would do for real money. Rich johns always knew the places that charged by the hour for a bed and discretion cost extra.

Since it seemed pretty clear to Bucky that he wasn't going to get kicked back out into the snow, no matter how uncomfortable Steve was, he couldn't resist the idea of messing with him a bit more. He could see the erection Steve was attempting to hide, and failing. Maybe it was just from hearing about these titillating actions but maybe...

He scooted up close to him and placed a hand on the side of Steve’s face, eyes full of mock concern.  "Are you sure you should be worried about me and the cold?  You look like you might have caught a fever." He edged dangerously closer.  "You're as hot as a furnace."

His instincts had been right about about Steve not kicking him out, but they hadn't told him that instead Steve would impulsively lean forward and kiss him.  He pressed back gamely, but when his tongue slipped between his lips to brush against Steve’s, the kiss was broken off as quickly as it started and Bucky was left in the lurch.  Steve sprang off the bed and across the room, practically tripping over his awkward legs on the way.  He paced right up to the wall before turning to look in Bucky’s direction, but unwilling to meet his eyes.

"I shouldn't have done something like that. You're a guest and that's not..."

Bucky outright laughed.  "You invite a hooker into your home and then you're embarrassed when you kiss him?"

Steve looked mortified, staring down at the floor.  In his night clothes, without winter layers covering him, he looked even scrawnier and Bucky realized he probably didn’t have an easy time of it, getting teased or pushed around.  Bucky stood and walked up to him, placing a hand on each arm, locking him in place.

"I'm not laughing at you. It's just crazy, you're just so... good."  Bucky had a free pass, he knew it.  He could go back to sleep, no need to work tonight.  Why couldn’t he just take it?

Because this kid had a screen star face unfairly paired with this coltish body, and his unsullied goodness transfixed him considering how much time he spent surrounded by bad.  He smiled at how he thought of this guy, at least five years his senior, as a kid, but he just seemed so innocent.  A part of him wondered why he felt the need needed to sully that.

Bucky asked for permission with a tilt of his head and Steve gave a small, cautious nod. He moved slowly forward, keeping his hands light enough on Steve's arms that he could pull away if he really wanted. This time it was a real kiss.  He guided Steve's mouth open, first demonstrating how much tongue to use and then moving out of the way, teasing him into trying it himself.

"But I - I don't really have any money," Steve stammered, out of breath as they pulled apart.

"Hey, a roof is worth a lot with a storm like that outside and just... think of it as paying for a lesson. You'd probably get a lot farther with gals if you kissed them like that," Bucky added with a diabolical wink.

Bucky watched Steve hesitate, probably trying to count the reasons he shouldn’t.   But he knew all too well, hormones get to everyone at some time or another, when their blood rushes to their groin and not their brain.

Reading Steve’s body language, Bucky closed the space between them and pressed their hips together, leaning in for another kiss.  The height difference between them meant that Bucky’s cock pressed along Steve’s stomach, stiffening as he pressed harder into him.

Walking backwards, Bucky pulled him towards the small bed.  He laid down, leaving enough room for Steve to follow, but instead he remained standing, knees against the edge of the bed.  Bucky waited to see if Steve would walk away, go to the couch his eyes kept darting towards.  If that happened, Bucky would just sneak out at dawn and they both could forget about each other.

Taking a risk that Bucky figured would either scare him off for good or get him into the bed, he slipped his trousers down, leaving them under the covers at the foot of the bed.  His cock was visible through the fly of his cotton boxers.  Apparently, seeing that did the trick and Steve sat down, legs tucked under him.  He was staring right at those boxers.

"Yeah?" Bucky carefully ventured.

Steve nodded, quietly adding, "Yeah."

That was all Bucky needed to hear. He pulled Steve into another kiss, slipping his hand around Steve’s waist, under the thin t-shirt.  As he felt Steve start to relax, he pulled him closer with kisses along his neck.  Neither could deny the whole situation was helping chase away the chill in the room.

Steve was looking ahead, concentrating on his own breathing, but his eyes kept returning to the other man’s tented shorts.  Bucky started to ask questions to keep Steve with him rather than drifting.  "So, you’ve never thought about anything with another guy? No buddy you tried things with to practice for girls?"

"Don’t have any friends, not close ones. And I mean, it’s not like I’ve never kissed someone before, like after going to the movies," he insisted, "but nothing further."  

Bucky could picture some dame giving him a peck on the cheek, telling Steve what a gentleman he was before sending him back on his way. "But you’ve thought about it?" he ventured.

Steve’s breathing hastened in a way that said yes.  "People think all sorts of crazy thoughts.  Artists have to be open, curious, to appreciate form and beauty," Steve said, faltering.

So that’s the excuse he came up with, Bucky mused.  As Steve had a harder time looking away, Bucky decided he must have found something to appreciate.

This time, Steve initiated the questions.  "So, most of the time you just use your hands?"

Bucky, at first, thought Steve wanted to get a hand job, but watching his expression and the direction of his gaze, he realized Steve was more interested in giving one.

"Do you want to try that?" Bucky was cautious, aware Steve might still lose his nerve.  He nodded and chewed on his lip.  Just watching his mouth caused Bucky’s cock to stiffen further.  "Okay then…"

  
  
  


Steve let Bucky guide his hand under the waistband of the boxers that held his attention so raptly, and Bucky wrapped both their hands lightly around his length.  Hands moving up and down together, he reached full hardness and urged Steve to tighten his grip.  

Bucky let out an indulgent sigh as Steve worked out setting a rhythm.  "Just like you would alone, yeah?"

Steve grunted softly in the affirmative.  It was like that, only… different.  Bucky was thicker than he was, surrounded by dark hair.  It was different to watch from a new vantage point.  The way Bucky’s breathing changed gave him a thrill he had never experienced before.  As Steve stroked, Bucky slid his shorts down his thighs before letting his head fall on the pillow.  Steve didn’t look up, but he could hear sounds escaping from Bucky’s mouth, quiet enough that he wasn’t too nervous about them passing through the walls.

The moans gave Steve confidence and he started to experiment, rubbing his thumb along the underside of Bucky’s cock, increasing the pressure as he slid his hand almost completely off, and then back down.  Bucky encouraged Steve when something felt good, and grit his teeth if it didn’t.  Steve paid attention and overall, he was doing more good things than bad, and learning quickly.

With Bucky’s eyes closed, Steve was free to stare all he wanted.  At his hard cock, bobbing up and down in Steve’s hand, already leaking some and lubricating the tip.  At his face, contorted in pleasure.  His eyes were tightly shut and his mouth was slack, letting hushed noises pass through.

Steve laid down alongside him, positioning himself so he could kiss him again.

Bucky placed a hand around the back of Steve’s neck and drew him in, small vibrations moving through them as he moaned.  Their kisses became rougher, but Steve was holding his own now.  Soon after Bucky did something, like nibble Steve’s bottom lip lightly, Steve would want to try it too.  

Bucky’s fingers traced through his sandy hair and tugged slightly.  "Faster," he managed to say in a hoarse whisper.

Obediently, Steve complied, attention centered on the small changes in Bucky’s expressions and the noises he made.  Bucky was getting close, nodding continuously and mumbling yes, like that, very good.  Steve changed his grip and twisted his wrist just slightly before reaching the apex of his stroke.  The change caused Bucky to bite down hard, his moans getting louder and harder to control.

Instinctively, Steve kissed him again and sped up the pace.  He wouldn’t back down this time.  It was heady, the control he felt as Bucky started pushing his hips in small thrusts up into Steve’s hand.  Bucky’s hand returned to the back of Steve’s head, but this time he grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled tight, desperately holding Steve’s mouth to his.

Steve wondered if Bucky was ever going to let him breathe again until he realized the reason he was held in place was to muffle Bucky’s cries as he spilled into Steve’s hand.  His hips continued to jerk upward a few times as he finished. Once Bucky stilled, Steve separated himself from the warm sticky mess, sitting up.

It took a minute for Bucky’s panting to subside.  Steve wiped his hand on the sheet, and Bucky grabbed it to do the same for his stomach, pulling his boxers up shortly afterwards.

Steve flopped back on the bed, wide-eyed, intoxicated by the rush.  His mind was swimming, but the strong ache in his tight pyjama pants couldn’t be ignored.  

"I wouldn’t say that’s like doing it by yourself, exactly."  

He heard Bucky breathe a laugh as he laid down on his side.  "Not exactly.  But, you did, um, a great job."  As Bucky pressed his body along Steve’s, his hand slid up the inside of Steve’s thigh, teasingly.  He curled his fingers around the obvious swell of Steve’s erection, still restrained by clothing.  Steve shifted under his touch, as though he couldn’t decide whether to move towards Bucky or away from him.

"You don’t have to," Steve urged.  "I’ll be okay."  He still wasn’t sure how ready he was with all of this, even as he wiped the results of a near-stranger’s orgasm off of his hand.  "Besides, I thought you were teaching me."

"Yes.  And you did very well in your lessons."  Bucky sent a filthy glance up at to Steve accompanied by a wicked smile.  "You deserve a reward."

  
  
  


Bucky’s smile dissolved into something more primitive as he looked down at the bulge under his hand, licking his lips as he considered his task.  Rolling on top, he slid down Steve’s torso to his waist, placing kisses on his slim chest through the thin fabric of his shirt as he went.  When Steve attempted to protest again against Bucky’s attentions, he mouthed words but could not make a sound, aside from his quickened breaths.  

Settling between Steve’s legs, Bucky placed more soft kisses over Steve’s cock, again just a thin layer of clothing keeping mouth from skin.  His hands drifted above his head, rubbing Steve’s belly lightly under his shirt before tucking his fingers under the waistband of the pyjamas.  Steve let out a sharp grunt when Bucky freed him from his pants in one quick tug, hips involuntarily pushing upward at the lack of pressure.

Bucky smiled at the sound and at the sight of Steve’s cock flushed and flat against his stomach. Bucky had already decided exactly what he wanted to do but if he hurried with Steve, inexperienced as he was, he wouldn't be able to enjoy himself for very long.  Once the pants were removed and in a pile with Bucky’s own at the foot of the bed, he continued with the small pecks on Steve’s bare thighs.

It was unusual to be able to take his time like this, normally in a rush to not get caught, but it wasn’t only the privacy of the room that made Bucky restrain himself.  He told himself it was merely gratitude for not being frostbitten at the moment, but if he was honest with himself, he felt something for the kid and thought he deserved something special to remember.

He started with just the tip of his tongue, tracing thin lines from the base of Steve’s cock to right under the head.  Flattening his tongue, he lazily licked the shaft, still avoiding the tip that was already leaking on to Steve’s stomach, until he was satisfied with the urgency in Steve's moans, begging for more contact, more pressure.  Bucky grinned wolfishly, eager to show off something he considered himself very good at.

Shifting positions, Bucky moved himself back up on to his hands and knees, straddling one of Steve's legs.  He guided the head of Steve’s cock up to his mouth and started lapping up the wetness pooled there before sliding the head between his lips.  One arm leaned on the bed to support his weight, and the other rested on Steve's sharp hip bones to keep him from thrusting.  Licking his tongue in a circle around the head, tongue curled under the edge, he took one more deep breath before lowering his mouth over Steve’s cock until his lips almost reached the base. It could end up hurting him if Steve thrust too hard but Bucky was satisfied in the way Steve's hips insistently tried to rock anyway.  He stayed with his mouth surrounding Steve completely as long as he could, breathing carefully, Steve’s hands clenching the sheets tighter when he swallowed.

He could swear he almost heard Steve whimper when he finally did move his mouth, only raising himself halfway back up before plunging down again, letting Steve's cock brush the back of his throat slightly each time, tongue pressed around Steve's shaft as it filled his mouth.  Bucky's eyes were tightly shut as he concentrated on his undertaking, keeping his throat relaxed, breathing through his nose, listening intently to Steve’s every noise.

The next time he rose his head up, Bucky stole a glance upward and marvelled at how wanton Steve looked, soft keening sounds escaping, too wrapped up in the sensation to hear himself.  His chest was rising and falling in sharp breaths and Bucky wondered how safe it really was to keep teasing him like this.  He finally relented, sliding his mouth all the way back to the the head so there was room for his hand on Steve's shaft.  Moving both together, his mouth and hand covered Steve’s cock in a smooth movement up and down.

Bucky could feel the tension building in Steve’s thighs as he edged closer.  Steve’s moans had become broken and ragged, and eventually he’d grabbed a pillow to help muffle them.  He was like that when Bucky felt Steve throb through his lips and he tightened his mouth and hand as Steve shuddered through his release.  Bucky gamely swallowed as it hit the back of his throat, staying there as long as possible before gently releasing Steve’s cock, licking his lips with satisfaction.

Steve’s body went limp, head tilting back as the aftershocks coursed through him.  Bucky let Steve have his moment of calm, and took the time to clear his head of all the attachments he was already berating himself for forming.  He had enough time to stand up, put his pants back on, and pull the dirty sheet off the bed, before Steve lifted his head from the pillow with a soft "Huh?"

Bucky laid back down, wrapping his arm around Steve’s narrow shoulders. "You think that’s so strange now?"  Steve shook his head languidly and reached up to bring Bucky’s mouth to his, more confident after all he had experienced.

Steve was also the one to break the embrace, wiping at the corner of his mouth with a perplexed look.  "Was that – that was from me?"

"I should go get a glass of water, yeah?"  Bucky moved to get off the bed, but Steve stopped him, catching him by the wrist.  When Bucky turned to look at him, he was sitting up and staring at Bucky with a determined expression.

Any words that Steve intended to say never made it out.  Instead of talking, he pulled Bucky into a deeper kiss, one that left them both breathless.  Dropping his forehead to Bucky’s chest, he finally conceded.  "Yeah, water would be good. Bring back enough for both of us."

Steve’s gaze followed Bucky as he walked to the sink.  As Bucky waited for the glasses to fill from the tap, he looked back at Steve, who was pulling his pyjama pants back on and curling tightly against his thin pillow.

He wondered if the radiator had started working again, because he didn’t feel cold at all.

 

*****

 

The next morning, the snow had finally stopped and the beginnings of daylight were piercing through the icy windows.  Steve woke to find Bucky at the door, trying futilely to turn the handle without making it creak.

"You were just gonna leave?" he asked in a sleepy voice.

"Gotta get home, remember?" Bucky said softly.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut.  He had no idea where that meant for Bucky, but he knew he wouldn’t tell him if he asked.  There had been an unspoken agreement that this was just a chance encounter, one that couldn’t be repeated.  But Steve wasn’t ready to let go, not after the way the night had changed him and what he thought he wanted.  He figured there was no harm in saying something, anything that would tell Bucky he didn’t have to go.  "Well, if you ever get stuck on this side of town again, you know somewhere you’re welcome to stay a night… or two…"

Eyes still closed, Steve imagined Bucky paused for a second in the doorway.  He was too afraid that if he opened them, he would already be gone, and he held his breath to listen for the footsteps walking away.  He let it out when Bucky said one more thing before shutting the door behind him.

"I’ll keep an eye out for you, OK, kid?"

 

*****


End file.
